


An Old Friend

by Saria_Strategos



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: I just needed someone to show him a SMIDGEON of kindness, OC is a widower, a few bowls of stew, and a place to sleep, and some hand me downs, but that doesn’t mean she won’t make sure he’s well fed, he’s old enough to be her father, just a little, ok a lot, she needs to take care of him, someone needed to give this man some care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25540630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saria_Strategos/pseuds/Saria_Strategos
Summary: I just need someone to show Geralt a SMIDGEON of kindness.This was born out of playing the games and hearing all the awful things people would say to Geralt. It broke my heart to hear it and I just...needed someone to take care of him a little.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	An Old Friend

An older woman sees him eating a weak broth in the tavern, it’s all he can afford, not even any meat in it, and drags him home, gives him a proper stew.

And he doesn’t know what to do with the kindness, can barely remember what he’s supposed to do with the  _ stew,  _ he's so thrown. But eventually he lets himself be led to a chair by the fire, his bowl refilled twice and a mug of ale sat on a little table next to him. He thanks her, a little awkwardly. 

When she comes out of the curtained off area that must be a bedroom and hands him some clothes he’s confused. While he’s eating she’s dug out some of her husband’s things to give him and he finds out she’s a widower.   


She takes his empty bowl and puts them in his hands. They’re not new but they don’t have a use around here anymore and they’re still in good condition. He holds the rough fabric and asks how much she wants for them, because she must want something. His entire life, nothing is ever given to him, not even the amount of coin agreed upon for a job. She tells him letting her take care of him is all she needs, they’re a gift. 

And he tries to argue but she firmly refuses to take anything from him, not even the few coins he has. She just refills his bowl of stew and ale and happily drapes a blanket on him, even though he’s right by the fire and puts out heat like a furnace.She won’t take anything but Geralt isn’t blind and he sees the state of the little cottage. There’s holes in the roof that need fixing, the door is off kilter from its hinges. So he agrees to accept the gifts so long as he can do a few things in return.

She doesn’t want to accept the offer but she can’t fix these things herself and he’s just as stubborn in returning the kindness. So she lets him climb on the roof to fix the tiles, straighten and repair the hinges and door. She warms water for him to wash with and takes to mending his ragged cloak so it isn’t so frayed. 

He washes, changes into the new clothes and she takes his old ones to wash and repair. She’s thankful her husband was on the bigger side, his shirt fits comfortably over Geralt’s large frame. 

He agrees to stay for dinner but says he’ll provide the meat and goes out hunting. Comes back a few hours later hauling a deer that he makes quick work of, stretching out and cleaning the skin so she can sell the hide, carving the meat and setting some to dry so it won’t spoil. He intends to leave most of it here for her, only taking enough with him to hold him over in case hunting is scarce between this town and the next. or in case the next town drives him out before he can even get a meal.

They talk over dinner and late into the night. It’s the most he’s talked in years but he finds it easy with this woman who took him in and cared for him. Asks about her family and listens when she tells him how her husband was a farmer that got caught up in the war and died, her son married and half the continent away. He tells her what he can of the road, stories of monsters he’s killed and people he’s met. There aren’t a lot of fond memories, although he has a few that leave him chuckling. Mostly things he and another Witcher, Eskel, got punished for together back at Kaer Morhen when they were young. Most of his fond memories are winters at the fortress, about Vesemir, the closest he’s had to a father, about his brothers. And she listens with a smile on her face.

He avoids stories about the hardships as much as he can, glossing over rocky receptions and times he wasn’t paid. She knows this and doesn’t press. Wants this to be a nice evening for him.

It gets late, she offers him the bed but he quietly declines, happy enough with the blanket and floor. She puts what extra blankets she has on ground anyways, so it’s at least softer for him. It’s the best sleep he’s had in ages, warm, relatively soft and with a full belly.

He’s surprised at how sad he is to leave the next day but he only had enough to stable Roach for the one night. He retrieves her and returns to say goodbye. A first for him. And finds she’s loaded his bags with all she can spare. A jug of ale, plenty of the deer, a few potatoes. She’s rolled up an extra blanket that she insists he take, as well as any other of her husband's clothes she can find.

She pulls him in for a hug and whispers “Take care of yourself”. He wraps his arms cautiously around and says “you too”. Holds her a moment longer before letting her go and walking away. He looks back twice and she waves each time.

He decides he’ll visit, someday.

He does. At least once a year. Brings her game and repairs what’s falling apart. Hides coins he can spare around her house. She feeds him, mends his clothes, talks, listens, laughs with him. He brings her little trinkets, tells her she can sell them but he always sees them on the mantle when he visits. She takes to making him new clothes, always black, but she sometimes embroiders little things on the hems of his shirts that will get tucked in, it’s not for decoration, just for them. Just a show that she cares to take the time. 

He’s furious when he finds out her son doesn’t keep in touch. She maybe gets a letter every few years with a brief update. She has three grandchildren she’s never seen and barely knows anything about. She stopped sending regular letters years ago since she never gets replies.

He finds out where he lives, pays him a little visit. He doesn’t threaten, not really. Just says it would be  _ nice  _ if he could  _ write his mother  _ more frequently. It would make them both  _ very happy _ . Maybe  _ visit _ . He knows the roads are dangerous, especially with children, but offers to escort them. Escorts her a few times. The happiness in her face when she meets her grandchildren is added to his small collection of good memories.

He starts sending her letters, starts receiving bundles of them in the last village before Kaer Morhen. Spends all winter rereading them and makes his way to her house first thing when the snow allows them to leave in the spring.

It’s the longest he’s stayed in touch with someone who isn’t one of his brothers.

He reluctantly brings Jaskier to meet her. He’d mentioned her a few times and Jaskier’s curious, been pestering him about this woman that makes him smile when he talks about her. He hopes Jaskier won’t be too much, too energetic, she’s getting very old. He brings extra meat to feed them all. He needn’t have worried, she  _ delights  _ in knowing he isn’t alone anymore. She’s heard the songs Jaskier’s been singing for years and she hugs him immediately, thanking him for all his hard work. 

Jaskier’s energy is toned down but very welcomed and he’s enchanted with this woman that’s taken care of Geralt for so long. They gossip and gab for hours, lots of it about Geralt who sits there trying to look surly but inside he’s warm and happy that they get along. There’s music and laughing and they stay for a week.

Geralt finds out Jaskier visits even when they aren’t travelling together. Brings her stories and music from around the continent. Sends her letters and has her send her replies to Oxenfurt where he has friends to hold onto his mail. He sings a few songs about the kind old lady who cares about strays and laughs when she smacks him for calling them strays and her old, even though she’s lived longer than most.

Geralt never says it out loud but he counts her as family.

They’ve both offered to bring her to Oxenfurt or Kaer Morhen but she’s worried about leaving her home for so long. They offer to move her entirely but Kaer Morhen would be lonely when the Witchers leave and she’s not cut out for city life. All her friends are here and what would she do? How would she earn her living? They don’t have answers for these questions, just endless worry she won’t be there in the spring

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr! Sariastrategos


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